


Secrets Are Hard to Keep

by protect-him (dooliandrake)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dooliandrake/pseuds/protect-him
Summary: Inspired by this adorable artwork here by dashingapostate.





	

Anders turned one of his cards so that they were all right side up and frowned. From the corner of his eye, he saw Fenris take another deep drink from his glass. He regarded his glass suspiciously and then turned to Hawke. Isabela giggled and poured more of her drink into Fenris’s glass. Hers was much stronger. Anders looked at Fenris again. He was giving Hawke a flirtatious smile, one of those small quirks of his lips that made Anders’ stomach twist with jealousy.

They were keeping their relationship a secret, and no wonder. The others would never believe it. They still fought in front of their friends, and had always disagreed. Their trysts were growing more frequent and not frequent enough still for either of them. Anders wanted to be on the receiving end of every one Fenris’s smiles. The elf was so beautiful.

“Anders! It's your turn again!” Merrill shook his arm.

“Oh, sorry.” Anders bit the inside of his cheek as he again examined his hand. He was losing, and he couldn't help the bad hands he was being dealt.

Fenris looked over at him now, eyes dark and half-closed and Anders knew the look. He had to distract Fenris before he gave them away.

“Fenris, why won't you help me help the mages trying to get out of Kirkwall?” Anders tried to make his voice testy, sharp enough to irritate Fenris into a mild argument.

“Stop trying to pick fights,” Hawke said. “Just take your turn. We're all waiting.”

It had been enough. Fenris pulled back, blinking and resumed his cool examination of his cards. His drink was more Isabela’s than his own now, but he was already drunk enough he hardly noticed beyond giving his glass odd looks.

After another hour, Anders had resorted to kicking him under the table to remind him not to give away how badly they wanted to leave right now. Together.

When a brawl broke out downstairs, Hawke put a hand on Fenris shoulder and recommended he stay behind. He grumbled, but remained, rearranging his cards. Hawke chuckled when Isabela made a comment on the stairs about how drunk Fenris was tonight. She made a more suggestive comment and Anders growled.

“Why anyone would want to spend the night with that mage-hater is beyond me.”

Varric chuckled and drew Bianca, though they hoped they wouldn't need to use their weapons. Anders was the last into the barroom, thinking himself how he hoped Fenris would let him stay the night tonight in his mansion.

When the rowdy patrons saw the threatening group, they reluctantly broke up without complaint.

“That was easier than expected,” Hawke said, smiling as they made their way right back upstairs.

Anders was one of the first through the door and with his head turned in the middle of replying to Isabela, he didn't see Fenris until it was too late. Fenris had downed the remainder of his glass, and was thoroughly drunk. He fell against Anders, mumbling into his chest something no one could understand. His face was flushed and he looked unhappy, and Anders thought he was probably hurting. His markings ached sometimes and he would look like this, though not drunk. He liked to cuddle when his body ached. Anders flushed, staggering back. Fenris was hugging him. He was closing his eyes. Falling asleep. Anders stammered. It was all he could do not to wrap his arms around the sleepy elf.

“Oh, go ahead and hug him,” Isabela said. “He's been making eyes at you all night. Set aside your differences and humor him for once.”

“H-He's drunk. He doesn't know what he's doing at all.”

“He knows,” Hawke said. “He went straight for you.”

“Nanders…” Fenris muttered. “I wanna go.”

“Maybe I should walk him home,” Anders said. “He's had more than he should.”

“Are you sure…” Hawke said. “If he realizes it's you…he may get angry.”

Fenris looked up suddenly at Anders, pain in his eyes. It had been exacerbated, Anders realized, by the drink.

“My place tonight,” Fenris said. “Please.” He wrapped his arms tighter around Anders and dropped his head back to his chest.

There was a long stunned silence and Anders felt himself go even redder than before.

It did little good to deny any longer.

“Shh,” Anders soothed, carefully unwrapping Fenris’s arms from around him. “We'll go to your place. I need to get your things.”

Fenris looked around at the others as if just realizing they were there.

“Come on,” Anders said, pulling him towards the door.

Just outside the Hanged Man, Fenris stopped him.

“Do they know?”

“Yes, they have to,” Anders said. “Since you had to go and make a display like  _ that _ .”

“I'm sorry...Anders, I-”

“What? You  _ what _ ? Didn't realize they'd see you clinging to me?”

Fenris looked at him, struggling to keep from crumbling. Anders realized too late.

Fenris whirled and staggered off, heading vaguely in the direction of Hightown.

“Fenris! Wait!”

“I'm going home,” Fenris muttered, his shoulder slamming into a wall as his legs lurched him sideways.

“I won't let you go alone,” Anders said. “At least take my arm.”

“Anders, what's happened to me? I'm seeing...” he blinked. “...two of you. Is that Justice?”

“Come on,” Anders said gently, putting the arm that wasn't holding Fenris’s gauntlets around the elf. “I'll help your markings when we get there. I can tell you're hurting.”

“Why?” Fenris moaned, falling against him.

“It might be the drink. Let's hurry,” Anders said.

Fenris grumbled incoherently as they moved. Anders was grateful when they arrived at the mansion without encountering any thugs. Fenris tried to remove his tunic, but he was struggling with the clasps.

“Let's go sit down and I'll help you get that off,” Anders said, leading the way into the hall where it was a matter of seconds for him to light the fire.

Fenris followed, head down, still trying to remove his tunic.

Anders sat him on the sofa and pulled his hands away, careful not to press too hard against his brands.

As soon as the tunic was unbuttoned, Fenris shrugged out of it and pressed himself against Anders, nuzzling against the exposed collar of Anders' shirt between the open halves of his coat.

Anders pulled his legs up and cradled Fenris between his knees. When he wrapped his arms around him, Fenris filled the space with the most comfortable rhythm of inhale and sigh Anders had ever known. Anders closed his eyes and tried to calm the flashes of light behind his eyes. He'd been waiting his whole life to feel a warmth like Fenris. The soft breath of his sigh against Anders’ collarbone threatened to make him fall to pieces. He'd thought Karl was it, but this made Karl a child's blanket, something Anders had clung to before he knew the real warmth of another person. Fenris’s arms slid into Anders’ coat, snaking along his ribs. Thin fingers curled against his back and Anders dropped his head to press his cheek against the white hair.

Anders took a deep breath and let his magic ease into Fenris, a gentle healing spell that he could sustain for a long period of time. Fenris pressed closer and sighed again. Anders felt eyelashes against his skin when Fenris blinked. He turned his head so he could kiss the dark line where Fenris’s hair parted.

He didn't notice when Fenris fell asleep, and he fell asleep himself shortly after, the glow of his healing spell fading with the firelight, his breath barely stirring the hair under his head.

The jokes of their companions would be waiting for them, but they could ignore them, now that they could spend every evening this way now if they wanted. No more excuses would need to be fabricated and no more secrets to be kept would keep them apart.


End file.
